


You've been locked in here forever and you just can't say goodbye

by pumpkinbloods



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: ;)), Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a hopeful ending?, Attempted Murder, Bi Michelle Jones, Complete, Death, F/F, F/M, Good luck y'all, High School, I don't know dude, Karma is a Bitch, Lesbian Cindy Moon, M/M, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PeterMJ - Freeform, Slight trigger warning, Spideychelle, flash thompson is a dick, i wanted to try something new, kissing? I guess?, lowkey evil Michelle Jones, no longer a work in progress, read this if you want pain, this is darker than things I normally write, this will only be a few chapters whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-06 14:11:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18389999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinbloods/pseuds/pumpkinbloods
Summary: “Who are you?”His voice chimes and circles down the alleyway, the gun in her hands, the bodies leaking blood on the grimy concrete. This wasn’t how he was supposed to find out.





	1. your lips

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! this is my first fic after finishing another one of my bigger stories, so sorry if it's bad. it will only be a few chapters and this is darker and gorier than things I normally write but oh well. I wanted to see what I could do. the title is from apocalypse by cigarettes after sex. hope you all enjoy!!
> 
> [my tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hellotomyoldheart)
> 
> [my other tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/exlosers)

“Who are you?”

 

His voice chimes and circles down the alleyway, the gun in her hands, the bodies leaking blood on the grimy concrete. This wasn’t how he was supposed to find out.

* * *

 

It starts with a gym class, a track, a pant and water fountain. A sigh, a catcall, a bare and bruised neck. A pulled ponytail. A shriek and whine, a trip and fall.

 

Michelle didn’t realize how fragile she saw, how her body was brittle, her ego was breakable. Her neck easy to snap and her hands easily pinned down.

 

Michelle didn’t realize how _small_ she was.

 

Her shoes were uncomfortable, no one should wear high top converse during gym. Her ankles would have bright blisters, her shoes would be kicked off on the bus and tucked into her bag. She would walk the half block to her house from the bus stop wearing only thin socks.

 

“Two laps around the track in five minutes! Go, go, go!” The gym teacher’s voice was piercing and loud. Echoing as all the students huddled at the start of the track, as the show off’s ran in front of the laggies. Pushing through the crowd, making each other lose footing so they could get ahead. So they could get a pat on the back from the pervy gym teacher.

 

The gym clothes stuck to her skin from sweat in the ninety-degree heat. She coughed and panted, her feet pounded on the ground with a rhythm. The crowd of girls that didn’t like gym, the heavier ones, the ones who preferred sitting in the library during lunch instead of eating, who didn’t take the catcalls as compliments, who didn’t giggle and play with their hair when people from the football team leaned in too close.

 

Michelle focused on her breathing, on the inhale and exhale, the white lines by her feet, the panting and pausing and the arms moving by her sides. A boy laps Michelle, and the crowd she was next to, the girls gathering like bats. He laughs and moved faster.

 

That’s when she snapped.

 

She stopped. Let everyone move past her, let the show off’s lap her once again, listened to the distant pound of foot on gravel, sounding something like horses. Michelle looked at the wire fence around the track, the slight dip down to it where soccer balls got stuck. Looked at the other side of the track, the slope of a hill and trees presenting shade for people to sit under during football games and track meets.

 

She was easily forgettable, the gym teacher didn’t call for her to run back. To finish the second lap. To move and listen and be the ideal woman so she could get a man. To polish her life, to prove she was perfect. That she didn’t have the black night living in the ribcage, that she didn’t have black tar flowing through her veins.

 

Sweat gleamed on her hairline, her upper lip, under her shirt, in the places where no one touched. Where her body ached, where they attacked.

 

No one talks about that, no one teaches you that about being a girl. How your body won’t be seen as a body but as something to be devoured. Something to be swallowed whole, something to made small. Curl into yourself, be small. Be easily taken over. You are not to be heard, you are to be seen.

 

No one teaches you about how blood isn’t scary anymore, how you can be in pain for hours and hours and you will still be able to move without whimpering. How when you put on your first bra, your first pad, your first tampon, your first lipstick, your first dress, how you won’t be a girl anymore. You won’t be a person anymore. You will be nothing more than a body. With legs and breasts and an ass and hair to be pulled, a neck to be snapped, hands to be pinned, a body to be ruined. To be owned.

 

“Thompson! Go get Jones!” the teacher yelled at the track star, but Michelle didn’t hear this. Didn’t hear his feet pound, his growl, his mouth unhinging and opening. Ready to feast.

 

A butterfly landed on the fence, unmoving and bright compared to the dead and dehydrated grass and pothole-filled parking lot. Michelle moved towards the butterfly, down the tiny incline to the fence.

 

Michelle was almost there when a blaring pain started in the back of her head.

 

Her curly ponytail was in his hand, her neck bared for someone to dig teeth into. Her feet stumbled and her eyes went wide. Her mouth gasped and whined. Flash brought his hand, his dirty hand to her hip and pulled Michelle close. Michelle tried to move her free fist, but he pinned it to her waist with a crushing grip.

 

“Let’s go, _Jones,"_  he spat out. Yanking her ponytail again hard enough for a yelp to escape her mouth. He pulled her to move and then let go, leaving Michelle with a strained neck and aching ponytail. Stumbled feet and sweat falling into her face, Michelle wiped it away with the back of her shaking hands.

 

Why didn’t anyone ever warn her? Why didn’t anyone ever warn her that her body wasn’t a body, that her soul wasn’t a soul, that now, after her bared neck, her bruises and blood, and sweat, now she wasn’t human anymore.

 

She is angry. She is fueled with ferocity. She is going to claw at eyes, get blood under her fingernails. Killer. Killer. Killer.

 

Michelle Jones will become the nightmare evil boys have at night.

* * *

 

Michelle sighed and put down the gun, watched as blood pooled around her, corpse fallen around her like some screwy ritual. Like her love for him was a sacrifice with death on the floor circling them.

 

“MJ,” his voice cracked. “Who are you?”


	2. my lips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning, for this whole fic. what Michelle and her buds do to the boys is up to your own mind. I hope you enjoy this.

“Baby…” Michelle trailed off. She knew what would happen next.

 

There were villains and there were heroes. It was that simple to the heroes, because they were the _good guys._

 

But to the villains, to the villains, it wasn’t that simple. Life was never that simple.

 

“Why did you do it?”

* * *

 

The first time it happens, it’s a mistake. A huge mistake.

 

His lips were chapped and tasted like strawberries and safety. He pushed her against the door and stood back to take a breath. Michelle slid her hands to his stupid sweater collar and pulled him back in. She got her answer with her hands. He was distracted and Michelle wasn’t. She was always focused on what she wanted, what she needed.

 

The bell rang ten minutes later. Lunch was over.

 

“What’s this about?” he asked.

 

Michelle rolled her eyes, pulling her phone out to check the time. She had a text from Gwen.

 

_where are u?_

 

 _meet in band room,_ Michelle responded.

 

“It’s nothing. I’ll see you in Spanish.”

 

It should’ve ended there. Michelle had a job, and she got the answers she wanted. It should’ve ended there.

 

Michelle swung the storage closet door open, disappearing into the crowd of rushing teenagers.

 

It should’ve ended there.

 

It didn’t.

♔♔♔

When she first met Gwen, it was after school and Michelle was washing a juniors blood out of her mouth in the third-floor bathroom. No one ever used it. No one would catch Michelle with a bloody toothbrush clutched tightly in her hands with bruised wrists. Her knuckles were bloody, serves the junior right.

 

“What ya doin’ there, Jones?”

 

Michelle jumped at the voice, turning around with toothpaste pooling at the edges of her lips. The blonde stood in the doorway, wearing high waisted mom jeans and a pure white sweater. There was something like a red handkerchief around her neck. She was smiling wicked.

 

“What do you want, Stacy?”

 

Gwen smiled and walked further into the room, her shoes making a soft pitter patter on the floor. “I want in.”

♔♔♔

“Hey” Gwen laughed as Michelle sat down next to the blonde in the stacks of books and forgotten paper. “Any progress?”

 

Michelle pulled Gwen in by the back of her neck and kissed her hard. Panting. This was normal. She needed the taste out of her mouth. The innocence that he brought, the taste of his freedom in her mouth. Michelle pulled and pulled the answers out of his mouth and pushed and pushed the words into Gwen’s.

 

Gwen wasn’t phased when Michelle pulled back, just leaned back against the bookshelf behind her. “You know?”

 

Michelle nodded.

 

“Who is it?”

 

“Peter Parker.”

♔♔♔

When Cindy joined the group, it was at a party.

 

Two college students were eyeing them. And they had a plan.

 

Cindy walked in at the wrong time, there was blood on Gwen’s cheek and Michelle’s neck was bruised. They both whipped around at Cindy’s piercing gasp from the doorway.

 

Afterward, when Gwen and Michelle were eating all the greasy fast food they could stomach, Cindy walked in with a skinned knee.

 

“What do you two do?”

 

Gwen and Michelle shared a look from across the table. They knew she could handle it.

* * *

 

“Don’t.” His hand was in the air, the suit, their suits. All the suits and masks they wear.

 

“It’s not what it looks like,” Michelle pleaded. “It’s not.”

 

His eyes went wide and heavy, his lip twitching and kicked the ground. “Don’t lie to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading.


	3. apocalypse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning, as always.

“How?”

 

His eyes were wide and watery. The mask had messed up his hair, it was curling at the edges. Into his face. Even when he was crying, panicking, seeing Michelle as she _really_ was. All masks down, every door opened, all skin stripped bare. The truth was shown.

 

“Have you ever- have you ever reached a point in your life and you wished you knew how you got there?”

 

He didn’t respond, just gazed at Michelle with a terror, a love, a broken look in his eyes.

* * *

 

Rumors started like wildfire, but boys were intrigued. They wanted to know what happened between these three girls, these three beauties.

 

Boys tried to take what they wanted, and when they got a no, a stop, a _thanks for the good night_ and a kiss on the cheek, when they confused human decency with flirting.

 

Who thought that standing around, being girls and being human, was an invitation.

 

Sometimes the party isn’t as fun as the invitation makes it sound.

♔♔♔

It keeps happening.

 

In between classes and jobs. When he’s not _saving Queens_ and she’s not making men pay.

 

He tastes like freedom. Like good. Something she will never have.

 

They keep it secret, hold hands under tables and sit in the back of movie theaters at one o’clock am showings.

 

“MJ,” he asks. Because that’s what he calls her. “What is this?”

 

Michelle chokes down a wail, because it can’t be anything. He can’t become anything more than a fuck. Than something at arms distance.

 

She should tell him. About the boys. The blood. The gore. The suits and the masks. The crown and the pleads. The job. The debt.

 

“Baby,” she said instead. “Kiss me.”

 

She’ll tell him. She will. Just not now.

♔♔♔

Cindy makes them something like suits.

 

Matching outfits. White shirts with red bomber jackets. Ones with pockets on the inside of them to put things in,

 

_Guns. knives. Anything. Anything that hurts._

 

And jean bottoms. Didn’t matter what type. Gwen wore jean skirts. Cindy wore jean shorts and Michelle wore skinny jeans.

 

They wore black and gold masquerade masks. Slipped them on when things started, when hands moved and they all shared the look.

 

♔♔♔

They keep a notebook, of names, of places, of ways. Of how and why and when. Of boys and the wrongs. Of the _heroes_ and the _villains._

 

It’s not that simple when it comes to them, if they’re heroes or villains. If they’re good, if they’re bad. If they are doing things God wasn’t smart enough to do, or if they’re doing things the devil considers hazing.

 

If they are the ones who deserve to die and they’re just putting it off.

♔♔♔

Gwen is the first one to go.

 

God finally caught up to them, caught up to the blood that washed off their skin and went down the shower drain. Caught up to the broken bones they left, to the red smiles. The kisses that turned into attacks and the sex that turned into something like…

♔♔♔

Gwen is the first one to go. She fell. Hard. For Cindy, at first.

 

It was a job. Some freshman had left a note in Michelle’s locker about an intern that worked with her, that didn’t take no for an answer. That he didn’t listen. He took until there was nothing left to take.

 

Gwen was leaning against a balcony, it was a setup. Cindy and Michelle were nearby, waiting. Focusing.

♔♔♔

They didn’t fest on what was left of the body, of the bare neck or ego like men did to girls. They left it for others to be seen. A warning.

 

_See this? This is what you may become. Be careful._

♔♔♔

He pushed her. The man did. Cindy and Michelle were behind him, ready, when Gwen smiled and took her shot. Then his hands were on her shoulders and her legs were kicking.

 

She fell. And fell. And fell.

 

Her body hit the ground with a loud _thump._  The man looked over the edge then turned around, catching the smell of Michelle and Cindy; but they were gone. Already in the shadows hiding.

 

The death of Gwen Stacy was the only thing the school talked about for… a long time.

 

They tried to get answers from Cindy and Michelle. Talked to her. Boys who were still alive said things about Gwen, but no one believed most of it. Because, _how dare you speak ill of the dead?_

♔♔♔

Gwen was the first to go. And Cindy took it hard.

 

Her lover was dead. Gwen was gone. And Cindy couldn’t take it. But she kept going, she owed Gwen that.

 

They were still missing something, as always. The blonde was missing. She was gone. But they kept going. They had things to do. They had to finish the jobs God or the Devil started.

♔♔♔

_“Baby._ _"_

 

He moved her hair and kissed the back of her neck.

 

_“MJ."_

 

She didn’t love him. Not at all.

* * *

 

“When?”

 

The gun clattered to the ground, Michelle thought for a second. About everything she had done in the past year. About the teeth marks in her bare neck, about Gwen and Cindy and the blood. The gore. The boys. The parties. God and the Devil.

 

_You and I have some unfinished business._

 

“A long time ago.”

 

He nodded. Looked away. A cat meowed in the distance. A race of cars. A yell, a scream, a bared neck, a-

 

“Are you sorry?”

 

Michelle looked at him, heart cracking in her chest. “I’m sorry you found out like this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!


	4. your lips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning, as always.

_"Why?”_

 

And that is the million dollar question.

 

There are two of her. Michelle and MJ.

 

Michelle is… ruthless. Is mean, is harsh and cold. Is bloody knuckles, gas stations being robbed at two am, female walking home alone at night. A nightmare of a girl. Is nothing but boiling violence. Everything about her is fueled by anger.

 

MJ is... amazing. She is everything Michelle wishes she was. She is flowers blooming, is forehead kisses and sunrises. Is homemade cupcakes and holding hands. Is having sex for love and not lust. Is nothing but good. Everything about her is fueled by love.

 

“MJ,” he said slowly. _“Why?”_

* * *

 

At the funeral, Michelle and Cindy wear black. They put Gwen’s mask and jacket on the casket to be buried with.

 

Their own masks are in the small purses they both have thrown over their shoulders. They stand near the front, holding hands. One of them is gone, power has been stolen. They won’t let him get away with this.

 

A boy hits on Cindy after the funeral, Michelle sneaks on her mask. The boy’s scream is cut off and muffled.

 

No one asks any questions. They’re girls. How much harm can a _girl_ cause?

♔♔♔

Cindy is the next to go.

 

It’s done by the same man who killed Gwen. Revenge was the only thing the two ones left wanted. The only thing. They were karma, the human versions of it.

 

 _He owes us,_ Michelle thought as she and Cindy created a plan. Where to go. They asked the freshman where he worked. What happened. His family. Friends. Hobbies.

 

“Are you guys sure about this? I’ve heard what you do, but this sounds a little…” the freshman trailed off.

 

“He took one of us.” Cindy looked at the freshman. “He owes us.”

♔♔♔

Michelle was getting ready to meet with Cindy and check around the building again when _his_ voice called her name.

 

“MJ?”

 

Her head snapped up at the familiar voice, looking behind her, at the top of the steps he stood. Smiling brightly. She stuffed her bomber jacket and mask into her bag quickly.

 

“MJ,” he called out again. Running the last few steps to get to her. “Hi.”

 

“Baby,” Michelle looked around. No one was there. She pulled on the edge of his shirt to bring them closer together. “What’re you doing here? I thought you had the internship today.”

 

“I’m waiting for my ride,” he smiled and interlocked their hands. “How are-”

 

She didn’t let him finish that, instead pulled him in for a kiss. Freedom. Safety. He would protect her, He would be the best, he was good. He wouldn’t hurt her.

 

She would hurt him. It was only a matter of time. Of why and when and how.

 

“Here’s my ride,” he kissed her again. “Bye, MJ.”

 

She pulled him in for one last kiss. “Be safe, baby.”

 

_Be safe. Stay away from me._

♔♔♔

Cindy was the next to go.

 

They were posed, ready. Masks on, suits on. Weapons ready. Revenge.  _He owes us. He stole one of us. He stole and killed. He owes us._

 

They may be evil, cruel. Awful and twisted. Sinners. Bad blood. Bad girls. _Forgive us father for we have sinned,_ type bullshit girls.

 

But they weren’t fools. Weren’t easily tricked. New when they were being set-up and knew when someone was watching. They weren’t fools.

 

Cindy’s death, that was the only exception.

♔♔♔

Cindy is the next to go.

 

The man has a knife in Cindy’s back before Cindy can fight back. They were ready, they were. Fueled by grief. There were five stages, everyone said. But no one thought it would get to this extreme. To girls, to girls finding and taking. Ripping out, warning.

 

 _You did this,_ Michelle wanted to tell the news outlets, the gossiping kids, the worried parents, and tired teachers. _You let them take what wasn’t theirs. You didn’t teach them properly enough._

 

_You did this._

♔♔♔

Cindy’s body fell to the floor, her gurgling mouth with blood and dizzy eyes.

 

Michelle let the man get a headstart, going to her knees by Cindy’s body and peeling off her mask. Grasping Cindy’s hand in her own, she pleaded.

 

“Cindy, please. Breathe, breathe with me. C’mon Cindy, don’t go. _Please."_

 

“I love you,” Cindy whispered, Michelle smelled iron. “Be okay.”

♔♔♔

Michelle stood up and adjusted her mask. Moving to find the man, the killer, the one more evil than Michelle herself.

 

All she saw was red. Michelle Jones was out for blood.

* * *

 

“MJ, answer me.”

 

There was no fondness, no love, no like, no nothing in his tone. It wasn’t hatred, it was something worse.

 

“MJ.”

 

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Michelle admitted.

 

“I want to know why you did this. Why you’re doing… why you’re becoming something like this. Why you’re making yourself easy to hate.”

 

"I'm not making it easy. Everyone else is, Peter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!


	5. my lips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning, as always

Peter made a strangled noise, something unholy and breakable. Something that _Spider-man_ shouldn’t be making. But his mask was off, so was hers.

 

They still looked the same, in all. Same people. Same blood, same eyes and lips and skin, and bodies that they had become familiar with in the past months. But inside, in their cores, they would never be the same.

 

“Help me understand, MJ. _Please."_

* * *

 

Spiderman was in the way of everything they had planned.

 

He popped up at the wrong times, showed up when they were ready. Tried to stop them, but they were quick. They were faster. They had been around longer than Spiderman had, and they weren’t gonna let some do-good Iron Man wannabe fuck up their plans.

♔♔♔

“We need to figure it out, Michelle.”

 

“There is nothing to figure out, Gwen.”

 

“We need to know who he is. I bet it’s someone at Midtown.”

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

“He was at the meet in Washington. He goes here. He’s a teen, I’ve heard his voice.”

 

Michelle sighed deeply, “what if it’s someone we know? Someone good?”

 

Gwen looked at Michelle while buttoning up the last of her jean skirt, tucking a knife in her jacket. “It’s a risk we have to be willing to take.”

♔♔♔

She’s laying next to him in bed when he sees the cut.

 

“MJ,” he ran the fingers over the slightly bloody gauze and Michelle hissed. “What happened?”

 

Michelle sat up and reached for her shirt by her bed, “nothing happened.”

 

Michelle stood up as Peter sat up with her, sheets pooling around his waist. “It’s something.”

 

Michelle turned sharply away from him and sighed. _Tell him,_ something deep inside her whispered. _He deserves to know._

 

“I think you should leave,” Michelle said instead.

 

“Why?”

 

“I just… think you should.”

 

“I don’t get it.”

 

“You don’t have to.”

 

He was out of her small apartment and into the real world, away from her, in less than a minute. The only sound was the front door shutting and the voice hissing at Michelle.

 

_He’s gonna find out. And it’s not gonna be pretty. Just wait. Just wait._

♔♔♔

Her parents left each other two weeks before Michelle’s eighth birthday.

 

Her mother has a new life now. A new husband, two new children, a new house, a new job, a new life.

 

It’s all fucking new.

 

 _But what happened to your old life, mommy?_ Michelle sometimes asked herself. _What happened to the life you had before?_

 

_What happened to me and daddy? Do we mean nothing to you now? Did you forget about us?_

♔♔♔

Anyway, her parents left each other two weeks before her eighth birthday.

 

Her mother tucked Michelle’s unruly hair behind her ear, and ran a calloused thumb across Michelle’s tear-stained cheek. Promising she’d be back. Promising she wouldn’t forget about her beautiful daughter.

 

Her mother stopped answering her calls, the letters, the texts. The cries after night after a nightmare. Her mother stopped answering and Michelle stopped calling. She could figure out how to be a child, a teenager, and an adult without a damn mother.

 

Michelle wouldn’t see her father for days at a time. He worked nights and slept through the day. They didn’t see each other. Sure, there were occasions where they would be in the small apartment at the same time and ate breakfast. But that wasn’t often.

 

They both had lives. They both had to keep themselves busy, to distract them from what was under the surface.

 

“Do you miss your mom?” her father asked Michelle once when she was fourteen.

 

Michelle’s head shot up from the Chinese food they were eating for dinner. Shaking her head slowly, she answered. “No. I don’t.”

 

Her father smiled, “good.”

♔♔♔

Michelle didn’t tell her father how she still had her mother’s number in her phone. How she still had a box of memories with her mother in the back of her closet.

 

How she _did_ miss her mother. Or maybe she missed the childhood she never got from her mother.

 

_Do you miss me, mommy? Do you?_

♔♔♔

They ignored each other for the better part of a week. Until Michelle broke and pulled him aside after lunch, hugging him. Hiding her face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

 

Peter tightened his hold on her, “it’s okay.”

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

He ran a hand down her spine, “it’s okay.”

 

_It’s not. It’s a lie. We’re all lying._

♔♔♔

Michelle followed the man to the alley, seeing him under the yellow light overhead the door.

 

Michelle smiled and pulled out her own weapon, “hey sweetie-pie.”

 

The man turned around with a scared look beyond his eyes. He had a knife, in his hand. Dirty with Cindy’s blood. Michelle aimed her weapon. 

 

“You and I have some unfinished business.”

* * *

 

Michelle didn’t try to make him understand. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t ever be able to. And that wasn’t his fault. He was born a male, he was born into a life that didn’t have to live with the fears girls did.

 

_Keep your head down. Stay quiet. Don’t walk home alone at night. Don’t leave your drink unattended. Carry pepper spray like lipstick. You’re always going to be too emotional. Slut shaming will become something of everyday life. You will be judged for having kids or not having kids. Sorry, will be your go-to first word._

 

 _Everything will be seen as_ **_your_ ** _fault._

 

“I can’t. You just… can’t.”

 

“Why?”

 

She couldn’t explain it to him, not without anger and blaming all of the likes like him. When it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t do this. He wasn’t the creator. He didn’t teach the first one, the first predator to prey on the weak. He didn’t teach the man in the alleyway on her way home to take what he wants. He didn’t teach the boys on the stoop to catcall. He didn’t teach the world that women were _weak, property, only made to give birth and clean. Only here for the enjoyment of men._

 

“You just can’t.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Stop that! Stop acting like I can explain it all. I can’t! Some things aren’t made for everyone to understand!”

 

“Well, try.”

 

“Why don’t you understand,” Michelle sighed. “This isn’t your place to be. He was a bad person. He deserved to die. The world is a better place without him. Justice is not served when it needs to be. What Gwen, Cindy and I were doing? We were doing what the fucking Avengers didn’t do. What the police _didn’t_ do. I’m not a good person, baby. I do bad things. But this? This is one thing that isn’t bad. This is one thing the world needed.”

 

“It could’ve-”

 

“Bullshit. No one was gonna do anything about this guy.”

 

After a few beats of quiet, he looked up and spoke.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“Because,” Michelle paused. “Because I didn’t want you to see this part of me. I liked being MJ to you. It was easier to keep our secrets away from each other.”

 

Peter didn’t respond. Just stood there, looking at the body, the blood, Michelle, the world that had gone gray.

 

“What now, Peter? It’s your move.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading!! new chapter up soon xx


	6. apocalypse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning, as always.

He didn’t talk.

 

“Peter, baby,” Michelle grabbed his hand and tugged on him. “What do you want to do?”

* * *

 

“Leave me alone!”

 

“Shut the fuck _up,"_  a voice yelled back, each word said with a kick.

 

Michelle woke up with a jolt, Gwen and Cindy sleeping on the bed with her. Covered with tons of blankets from the winter chill. Gwen and Michelle were sleeping over at Cindy’s, Christmas break had just started and they were going to see Elf at the movie theater the next day.

 

Michelle rolled out of the bed and grabbing a blanket that was kicked off the bed and wrapping it around her body. She walked over to the window and opened it, looking down at the street below.

 

The girl was being held down, arms pinned. But she was kicking and moving. Trying to stop.

 

Michelle grabbed a weapon from the dresser near the window, creeping out and onto the fire escape.

 

Michelle was about to jump down and fight for the women, fight for her, when another voice spoke.

 

“Leave her alone.”

 

Michelle dropped down to the ground, tucking the weapon into her pajama pants waistband. The man was knocked unconscious quickly, laying on the ground and fucking _Spiderman_ was standing there.

 

The women sat up and Michelle walked over to her, crouching down onto the snowy ground. “It’s okay now. It’s okay.”

 

Spiderman looked at Michelle for a second, frozen. Michelle knew who was behind the mask, she knew. But she wasn’t gonna tell him now. That wasn’t important.

 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Michelle cooed, running a hand over the woman's hair, feeling damp tears in her neck. “It’s over now.”

 

When Michelle turned around, Spiderman was already gone.

♔♔♔

The police were catching up, starting to track their trail. Finding the places they watched, it was only a matter of time.

 

Cindy said they had to be more careful. Had to do less harm casually, had to be more serious.

 

“He’s gonna find us, Michelle. You gotta tell him.”

 

“It’s not that easy, Cin.”

 

“He’d understand, wouldn’t he?” Gwen asked, taking a bite of her lunch. “Peter’s a good person. He’d understand?”

 

Michelle sighed and looked out the diner window. “I… I don’t know. I- I hope.”

♔♔♔

His body fell to the ground quietly.

 

The gun hit his chest, his heart, the black stone in the middle of his ribcage. It shattered into a million pieces. He fell to his knees, eyes wide and shocked. His mouth opened, unhinging and growling for the last time.

♔♔♔

Michelle wasn’t a good person. It was that simple. She wasn’t a good person, she did bad things, she thought evil thoughts, she wanted to cause harm.

 

“What if… what if I’m not the hero? What if I’m the villain?”

♔♔♔

There a noise behind her, a strangled cry. She didn’t turn around. She knew who it was.

 

“MJ?”

 

Her eyes fluttered shut and she breathed out. Her hands started to shake and her eyes started to ring. Everything around her seemed to pause.  The world stopped spinning, the blood stopped flowing, people stopped moving. There was only Peter Parker and Michelle Jones.

 

“MJ?”

* * *

 

“I don’t know what to do, MJ.”

 

Michelle moved to stand in front of him, bringing his face in her hands. Tears falling onto her bloody skin. “Peter, I love you. More than I ever thought I could.”

 

She took a breath. Shutting her eyes and leaning their foreheads together. “I’m going to leave. And you can’t follow me.”

 

“MJ, please. We can figure this out, please.”

 

Michelle shook her head, “shut your eyes, and count to ten.”

 

One,

Michelle’s hands left his face.

 

Two,

She took a few steps backward.

 

Three,

The tears started.

 

Four,

She set down the gun.

 

Five,

She looked at the dead body on the ground.

 

Six,

She started to walk out of the alleyway.

 

Seven,

Her foot stepped into a puddle and she swallowed a sob.

 

Eight,

She stood at the edge of the sidewalk, the forever distance between here and there.

 

Nine,

She spared one last look at beauty. At Peter. At baby. At the love she would never end up with.

 

Ten,

Peter opened her eyes and MJ was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!!


	7. your lips, my lips, apocalypse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning, as always. last chapter!! whoop!!

She told her father, and he understood, somehow. They were gone before the sun came up.

 

Their apartment had been mostly empty since they moved in, Michelle’s bed didn’t even have a frame. They had an old box TV that was thrown out in the alleyway.

 

They didn’t talk very much, her father bought plane tickets and everything would be sent to her grandparent's house in Georgia, where they would be staying until they found a place to live. Michelle didn’t talk on the plane, just listened to music on her headphones and looked at the clouds.

 

_Got the music in you baby, tell me why_

_Got the music in you baby, tell me why_

_You've been locked in here forever and you just can't say goodbye_

 

She missed him, but it was better this way. There was less pain this way.

* * *

 

The Jones family was gone in a flash. One day they were there, the next they weren’t.

 

Two bodies were found in the span of an hour. One a teenagers identified as Cindy Moon, the other identified as Conor Scott, a twenty-one-year-old who was accused of rape on multiple occasions.

♔♔♔

There were no traces of her. Her locker was empty, her apartment stripped bare. There was no way to find contact with her. Her family all lived in different places and her father was gone too. There wasn’t any way to find her.

♔♔♔

People pushed for answers, Flash and others tried to get truths out of him but he never answered.

♔♔♔

“What happened to MJ?” May asked once.

 

He just shrugged in response.

♔♔♔

She was gone, and there was no way to find her.

 

But she was everywhere.

 

In the bed next to him, the library reading against the stacks, singing softly along to the radio, walking down the hallways, in the cracks and places he didn’t even know were there.

 

She was everywhere, but she was gone.

* * *

 

Michelle sends Peter something once.

 

A postcard and a CD full of songs. There was no return address. 

 

_I love you, baby. I love you._

 

_-MJ._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading this story!! love you all!! new stories up soon :))

**Author's Note:**

> hope you all enjoyed!! thanks for reading!!
> 
> [my tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hellotomyoldheart)
> 
> [my other tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/exlosers)


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